


when wretched souls become one in yousef from bakka's tub

by eggsntoast



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: 1st Year Isak, 3rd Year Even, Alternate Universe, Drinking, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, POV Isak Valtersen, Philosophy, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-08 00:15:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21466885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggsntoast/pseuds/eggsntoast
Summary: “So, Isak from Nissen, Sana’s friend. What happened that made you end up with a grown man in a tub?”ft. A first-year Isak and a third-year Even. Even obsesses over philosophers, trying to find the meaning in life. Isak is confused about who he is. They’re on different planes of life, but somehow, something deep within them feels pulled to one another.And as Isak climbs into the tub next to Even, taking the blunt from his fingers and pressing the side of his head against the cold tile walls, admiring this beautiful man before him, and somehow they end up in love, so be it.
Relationships: Even Bech Næsheim/Isak Valtersen
Comments: 18
Kudos: 242





	when wretched souls become one in yousef from bakka's tub

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to my #love in a tub fic! thank you to james (@ evenbchnsheim on tumblr and @ lamourestout on ao3!) for helping me beta this!!!! 
> 
> hope you enjoy this alternate universe meet-cute :)
> 
> also, i've made a [playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLPiXD8dxv1yq0MF4n4eJOejHCs3qwuoOR) for you to enjoy while reading! (chose each song w/ that bathroom effect for Aesthetics lmao)

Isak rushes towards the bathroom before he can fully comprehend what he just did. He pushes past the sweaty groups of teenagers, the feeling of their skin pressing against him as he inches through is almost intoxicating, every nerve in his body siring off in all directions, he feels like he’s going to fucking explode. He needs to get out of this room, out of this house, but he still runs to the bathroom in hope of finding solitude there. 

He makes it there in record time, the music that booms around him falling near-deaf behind him as he turns the knob and _thank God_ it's open, and he slams the door. He turns the lock as fast as he can, hands shaking, his breath caught in the middle of his throat. He feels like he’s going to fucking _burst into oblivion. _

“Lost?” A voice comes from behind him, and Isak gasps, a cold feeling running through the core of his being, the deep sound casting his attention. He swallows nervously, his eyes almost filled with tears now, and he meets a pair of blue ones, staring over towards him over his shoulder. The boy flicks his eyebrow in Isak’s direction, the corners of his soft, round lips pull into a half-hearted, kind smile. As if Isak needed _someone_ to _witness_ his meltdown. This must be some kind of trick, an act of karma from some higher being Isak doesn’t understand, for this boy is — this _man_ is _beautiful_. 

The boy is hunched in the tub with one hand holding open a novel, the other holding a half-smoked blunt held delicately between his thumb and index. He’s got a blue hoodie on, held over his head, and his long legs hang over the edge of the tub. Whatever book he’s holding open, it looks as though he’s set himself in such a way that the bathroom light hits the novel just so, illuminating it despite the tub being in the far corner, almost completely in the dark save for the one area. 

He’s so caught in the split-second of a moment, that when a pounding comes to the door next to him, it feels painful to tear his eyes away from the soft gaze of the golden-haired boy hunched in the tub. He feels his breath escape him. 

“Isak?” It’s _Jonas_. He knows his voice, because of course he does, and he sounds — curiously not angry, but confused and anxious. The knob jiggles a few times before another knock, less of a pound and more of a gentle tap. “C’mon man, open the door. We’re both too drunk to talk about this right now, okay?” 

Isak takes a step back, away from the door, and from the corner of his eyes, he can see his reflection. _Fuck_. He looks positively _wretched_. He looks like someone tore his heart out and devoured it in front of him when in reality, it was Isak just doing it to himself. _Fuck you. Fuck you and that dumb hat you decided to wear. _

“I’m gonna head home, Isak. I’ll text you in the morning.” Jonas says through the door, his voice barely audible over the music, he thinks it might be Childish Gambino’s _Redbone_, but Jonas is standing behind the door, preventing Isak from seeing him. He’s thankful he made it into the bathroom before Jonas had a chance to reach him. 

Isak can’t gauge his reaction, but he can almost picture Jonas standing there just beyond the door, his beautiful green eyes holding a soft, kind gaze, mixed with the eyebrows that bushed up when he frowned, giving Isak a look of pure _pity_. 

_What were you thinking? _

He wished he could picture Jonas _seething_, teeth barred, fists knuckled with his thumb held inside his palm, ready to pound in on Isak. But he couldn’t picture it. All he could see was Jonas’ eyes, his understanding words spilling from his mouth, and Isak deserved _none_ of it. 

He couldn’t fucking see Jonas right now. He just couldn’t, not when his friend is so understanding, even in the hardest of times. Isak would rather the latter. He’d rather Jonas hate him for this. He deserves Jonas’ resentment, not pity, not his selfless acts of affection and care._ I don’t deserve it._

He waits another moment before something inside of him clicks, and he snaps his neck back towards the boy in the tub, not-so-surprised to see him still looking towards Isak, having seemingly never moved, except for now. He brings the blunt to his lips, staring Isak down with an amused and gorgeous smirk, hollowing his cheeks lightly as he takes a quick puff, then as he blows out the smoke, gestures for Isak to take it. 

“Want some? I think I’ve had enough.” 

Isak doesn’t know how his legs move for him, and he quickly reaches for it, taking a pull as fast he can. _What was that rhyme again? Grass before beer you’re in the clear?_ Well fuck, Isak isn’t sure _how_ much he has drunk tonight. His mouth tastes like some kind of sweet wine and vodka mix. He remembers drinking one of Vilde’s coolers, but that was after a few shots of Mahdi’s whiskey _and_ sharing an eight-pack with Magnus. The smoke burns down his throat and into his lungs and he welcomes the pain with open arms. _I deserve to feel pain, I deserve it. _

“Move over.” Isak says, deciding he doesn’t have the literal strength to stand here anymore. He quickly climbs into the tub and the boy moves a bit, now leaning back against the wall next to Isak, his legs still hanging over the side of the tub, as Isak curls himself into the darker corner, pulling his knees to his chest, all while the boy’s eyes never waver from watching Isak. 

“Care to explain?” The boy asks, and _fuck_ if his voice doesn’t make Isak want to literally melt into the earth._ Jesus Christ._ As if what had _just_ happened had not happened and suddenly — Isak thought maybe he was hallucinating a wet dream or something. _A hot boy smoking in a tub at a party? Reading a book? What the fuck? Should I pinch myself? _

But what had just happened…_had_ happened, and despite the few fleeting thoughts that ran through Isak for a brief moment, he was suddenly overwhelmed with dread. He looked up at the boy, narrowing his eyes in distaste. 

“Do _you_? Who sits in a tub reading at parties?” He says in a way that he means to be playful but it ends up with him sounding like a brat. He _is_ a fucking brat, he’s a snake, he knows he is, and he thinks he might deserve it if this boy just ups and leaves right now, leaving Isak to wallow in his own self-hatred. 

But instead of getting upset, or the boy possibly taking the blunt and leaving Isak alone to bask in his own demise, he laughs. It’s _glorious_, positively life-changing in a way Isak’s never known. It fills Isak with a sudden glow, and it flows from the tips of his toes to his ears and he pulls the blunt, looking away quickly from the boy, unable to watch as his beautiful face twists up at Isak’s words, a sound of pure joy emanating from him. 

“Oh my god, you’re adorable. Tell me what that was about.” He gestures to the door briefly, then takes the blunt from Isak, closing his book with a soft clap and putting it behind his back before Isak could really see the cover. The only thing he could make out was _Kierkegaard_. 

_Reading existential poetry in a tub at a party? What the ever-loving—_

“Who are you?” Isak asks before he can stop himself, and the boy smiles. 

“Oh, I’m Even. You?”

“You don’t go to Nissen, do you?”

“I don’t. I’m from Bakka, friends with the host, Yousef. So you’re from Nissen, hmm? One of Sana’s friends?”

“Why are you sitting in this tub, Even?”

“This feels like an interrogation.”

“It is. I’ve somehow got myself into a situation where I’m sitting in a tub with a grown man I do not know.”

“_Grown_ _man?_ I’m only in my third year, I only _just_ became legal to purchase _beer_.” 

Isak laughs but then stifles it. 

“I’m kidding man, relax. I’m Isak.” He doesn’t know how that came out so smooth, but it seems to have piqued Even’s interest immaculately. He’s quiet for a moment, but then he speaks. 

“So, Isak from Nissen, Sana’s friend. What happened that made you end up with a grown man in a tub?” Even asks, unable to stop smiling, apparently. His eyes are so fucking blue. There’s a deep redness around the corners, making them glow like a bright neon light. It was weird and beautiful and there are so many freckles scattered across his jaw, little moles that Isak thought looked like a scatter of stars. He wanted to reach out and trace them with his fingertips, his mind racing at the thought of him being as soft to the touch as he looks. 

“Well, when you put it that way,” Isak rolls his eyes but laughs, and Even chuckles, passing the blunt back to him. Isak shrugs, contemplating a few seconds too long and the air around them goes from new and weird to something intimately comfortable. Isak can’t complain, he doesn’t want to do anything but indulge in this fantasy while it lasts. 

“I uh, may or may not have just ruined the only relationship I’ve ever cared about. I mean, _friendship_, but…I don’t know. It was _something_ to me, not to them, and,” He stops, meeting Even’s eyes. “I said some pretty fucked up things, right after the other.”

“Damn.” Even says, nodding his head like he’s listening to a new album. The thought makes Isak’s heart feel easier. 

“Can you play some music or something? I kinda forgot my phone out in the living room.” Isak asks sheepishly, remembering only now that he’d placed it down next to his drink because Jonas had sat him down very seriously and said, _“Isak, I need you to be honest with me.”._ The look on his face, as Isak remembers it now, makes him shudder. 

“Oh, shit, for sure,” Even says, digging into his side pocket and pulling out a large smartphone, practically half the side of Isak’s whole face and his hand positively _dwarfs_ it, his thumb stretching across the screen as he opens it up and opens his Spotify app. “Anything specific?” He questions, looking to Isak with parted lips, chapped but pink and gorgeous. Isak can’t help but want to grab those hands and have them cup his jaw, press sweetly into his neck, squeeze his thighs. He clears his throat, swallowing back a moan at the thought. _Calm yourself._

“Uh, something to make you feel tough. Like… N.W.A.” Isak says, shrugging a few times in a row to try and seem nonchalant about his music taste, lest he somehow disappoints Even, or better yet, impress him in any way over his _impeccable_ taste in 90s hip-hop.

“So… no _Gabrielle_, then?” Even asks, pouting slightly, and Isak scowls and scoffs as Even just laughs and laughs, nudging him slightly, elbow to Isak’s knee. It sends a shock to his core, just the minor touch, brief as it was. He can still feel it even as Even sits back against the wall and keeps swiping through his phone. “Kidding. Ever listen to Nas?” 

“Naas? Yeah, I’ve heard of them.” Isak responds, shrugging again, totally nonchalant. 

“Nas. It’s just a ‘_him_’.” Even suppresses a small laugh, but it doesn’t sound judgmental, only a slightly higher version of delight, whatever that could be. “I’m gonna blow your _mind_, Isak.” He states, a silent understanding having fallen between them. _You already are._ Isak passes him back the blunt after he takes a long pull, letting the smoke ruminate in his lungs before he breathes it out. 

“So, Even, third-year at Bakka, friend of Yousef,” Isak begins, pressing the side of his temple against the cold tiled wall and staring up at Even unabashedly now, unable to condemn himself to look away anymore. He was indulging in this _fully_. The longer he could stare at Even the better. Now that he was a good mix of high and drunk, his mind was at ease, and all he wanted to do at this moment was talk to Even, not think about Jonas or the absolute hell-storm he’d created just minutes ago that will surely break him tomorrow. He doesn’t have to deal with that right now, he refuses to. “Tell me about Nas.” 

Now Even suddenly seems to be shyer as he begins discussing with Isak the _theories of Illmatic, the 94’ album by Nas,_ which he tells Isak is his favourite. Isak tries his best to make sure he’ll remember that in the morning, so he can relive these blissful moments that seem to be fleeting. Even gives him facts, sparing no shortage of knowledge, and goes back a few seconds sometimes to replay certain parts, pausing to make sure Isak is still paying attention. 

“Isak, you still there?” Even asks, pausing the song, and Isak drifts from staring at the curve of his nose on his profile, which _might_ just be one of the most beautiful things about him, and he finds Even looking at him again, for the first time in the last 258 seconds. But who’s counting?

“Yes, you were discussing how the album is praised for its self-awareness in its lyricism,” Isak responds, because of _course_ he’s hanging onto every word while also staring at Even, he’s a _great_ multitasker. 

“Yeah, I mean, how wild is _that_ concept, right?_ Self-awareness?_ What a weird, weird thing to think about.” He looks solemn for a moment, but then he shrugs, dismissing his own words, and Isak is curious as to why he’s so easily dismissing something he seems to be genuinely interested in. 

“How so?” Isak asks, raising a brow and lifting his head from the tiles, and watching as Even slowly brings his legs into the tub, and for a moment Isak is just watching him as he crumples his legs up, sitting back against the edge and facing Isak fully, his full face now illuminated in the light and _my_ _god_, _he’s the sun. He’s the fucking sun. _

The book he’d had behind his back falls into his lap now, and Isak can see what it is._ The Concept of Anxiety_ by Kierkegaard. 

“You look like the sun.” Isak whispers, and Even’s expression quickly becomes puzzled, looking at Isak with a brief look of concern before he lets out a laugh.

“Are you possibly flirting with me, Isak from Nissen?”

“I don’t know, Even from Bakka, is it working?”

“Oh my god, Isak. My heart can only take so much.” Even laughs, and it turns into a fit for both of them. Isak doesn’t know why exactly Even is laughing at his odd attempts of flirting, but instead he’s caught in the way Even laughs that he can’t keep himself from laughing as well. He doesn’t even let himself get caught up in the fact that this is the first time he’s attempted flirting with a cute (gorgeous) boy, and instead of Even being disgusted, he was laughing, but not in a patronizing way. It was comforting. 

Then suddenly Isak wonders why he’s letting himself indulge in this. This is Heaven. He’s _found Heaven in a tub in Yousef from Bakka’s bathroom_. He doesn’t deserve this. He stops laughing and he feels his heart sink, feeling as though he’s been slapped to reality. 

“Even, I did something really horrible. I don’t know how to fix it.” Isak whispers, clenching his jaw after the words have been spoken. He thought they might make him feel a little lighter, but instead, the weight of the situation comes back in full force, relentless, and Isak’s chest feels like it might explode again. 

Even suddenly begins to shuffle, and turns away from Isak, his back now to Isak. Then after a moment, he turns to look at Isak over his shoulder, giving him a curious smirk. 

“Put your back to mine.” He commands, and Isak does just that, scrambling and almost hitting his knee on the faucet as he does so, sneaker slipping slightly as he all but bumps into him, sliding back against his back and falling with a huff. “Jesus, you move like a baby deer.” Even laughs and Isak feels it, rumbling behind him. He can almost see his eyes crinkling. 

But right now all that’s in his view is the brown tiled wall of the dark tub, and he sighs as he looks at it.

“Now you can spill all your secrets to the wall, and not me.” He says, “But I’ll listen, with your consent, of course.” 

Isak feels an odd wave of formality falling over him. He doesn’t know why this feels so nice. It feels like it’s important. Like Even understands he can’t possibly fathom actually saying the things he wants to say out loud, but he’s giving him just enough space to let it go. 

“I…told my best friend I was in love with him, and then I told him I was the reason his girlfriend broke up with him. They were _really_ in love, Even. But fuck, I’m in love with him, too. Or at least I—I _thought_ I was. From the moment they broke up two weeks ago, to the time just now where I told him I loved him, I haven’t been sure I _really_ loved him at all. Did I really love him or… was I just being a jealous, shitty best-friend? He’s been _mine_ since we were five and I never wanted to share him.”

“But then his girlfriend came into the picture and for the first time I saw a different side of him, a side of him that was in _love_ with someone else, _someone else_ was getting his attention and his affections and I — I felt betrayed… I felt so left out. _Faen_, Even, I’m not even out—I’m not even sure if I—if I _do_ like boys, but this wasn’t how I ever imagined coming out and now — Even can you say something now before I throw up?” Isak pauses, realizing he’s getting quieter as he runs out of air to breathe, and takes a deep breath. 

“I cheated on my ex-girlfriend of six years because I realized I was in love with my best friend, and I tried to kiss him. Then I got diagnosed with bipolar. Ended most of my friendships and this party was supposed to be me trying to integrate back into the friend group... I arrived late and though everyone had said over text that everything was cool, I arrived here to find out that Sonja and Mikael are now..._together_.” Even huffs out a laugh, a pitiful one that sounds painful, and Isak returns it, only lightly, for he can feel his pain just as much as Even is feeling his. He doesn’t know _who_ this Sonja and Mikael are, but now Isak is filled with the determination to make them feel the pain Even currently is feeling because of them. 

“As it turns out, all that alone time we three spent together this past year, as I fell in love with Mikael, he and Sonja fell in love _before_ that, and have been wanting to be together. So I’m in _here_, hiding. Reading a book about self-awareness because I feel like this is all a bad dream. It has to be, right?” He says, and then he coughs, his voice had gone hoarse. He takes a moment, letting it all hang. “But I’m still into guys. LOL.” 

“Even did you just... say L.O.L out loud after we both spilled this shit about ourselves? What are you—?”

“Crazy? Yes.”

“_No_. Not crazy. I wasn’t going to say that.” Isak says, and the air hangs again. It feels intense, but somehow Isak is able to catch his breathing a little more in the moments that they spend quiet between them, comfortable. 

“Can I look at you?” Even asks, but Isak shakes his head even though Even can’t see him do it. 

“No, not yet.” 

“Want me to play some music?”

“Sure.”

_High For This_ by The Weeknd begins playing from behind Isak, in Even’s hands, and Isak laughs, leaning his head back against Even’s upper back like a headrest, nearly pressing his nose into his hoodie. 

“Ironic,” Isak says with a snort. 

“I gotta know you when I’m sober, Isak. I swear I’m much less nihilistic and more…_goofy_.” Even suddenly says, solemnly, and Isak bursts out laughing. 

“What? No way, _you?_ With your giraffe neck and legs and those alien blue eyes? Nah, not goofy at all.”

“What — what did you fucking, what!?” Even can barely speak, he’s laughing as well, unable to fully grasp how Isak just described him. It was poetry. Waxing poetic notions about his height and the colour of his eyes. Isak laughs too, and once their laughter subsides, Even is leaning back against him too, fully pressed into him. 

“Can I look at you?” Isak asks, because he feels like he needs to ask now.

“Not yet. I need to think of a way to describe you before I see you again.” He states, and Isak blushes, silently smiling to himself, glad they didn’t turn around just yet. 

“So…_ The Concept of Anxiety_ by Kierkegaard, hmm?” Isak asks, nonchalantly questioning what Even had previously been invested in before Isak barged into his life, somehow. 

He’s in a fucking tub with Even, third-year from Bakka, a friend of Yousef, _the son of Apollo_ or some shit, making Isak feel like he’s alive for the first time in his whole life. And maybe that’s an odd way to describe how he feels so active in this moment, like it’s vital for his life and from now on things won’t be the same, but Isak is _much_ too high, much too drunk at this moment to possibly care. The song changes to something he’s not familiar with before Even speaks again. 

“Anyone not wanting to sink in the wretchedness of the finite is obliged in the most profound sense to struggle with the infinite.” Even quotes in the coolest way possible and Isak swallows audibly. 

“That’s some kind of insight, Even.” Isak whispers, and Even’s body moves with him as he laughs. 

“I know, Isak.”

The way he says Isak’s name sends a tingle from the back of his neck down through his body and sends every circuit in his wiring into a frenzy. He wonders if the way he says Even’s name does the same for him. He’s selfishly hoping that it does. 

“It’s sad though… I feel like,” Even sighs before he continues, “Everyone is just alone. Stuck in their thoughts. Your thoughts are infinite, and every day you wake up and you’re forced to — to _live_ with them, these infinite thoughts that spiral every which way. The only way to escape them, to make them finite, is by dying.” Even says, and Isak huffs.

“That’s dark.” Isak remarks, and Even hums, “And completely wrong.” 

“How so?”

“You’re not alone in anything, only if you _force_ yourself to be. Humans naturally have a need to develop relationships and whatnot, pursue dreams, even if the outcome would end up in failure.” Isak huffs, and before Even can retaliate, he continues, “Kierkegaard _also_ said that anxiety is the possibility of freedom, that anxiety alone, through faith and communication, consumes all finite ends and discovers all deceptions. So, Even, to sum it up, I think that you’re wrong about your thoughts, that you're _alone_ in them, because as long as you have someone to communicate them _with_, you'll never be alone.”

Even hums and Isak chokes back the bit of unwanted anxiety that’s grown in his throat, an odd lump, and he forces it down. It goes with ease. 

“So, the beautiful boy with golden curls and sea-green eyes also happens to be...inquisitive and wise?” His words sound like honey, sweet and dripping off his tongue. Isak melts back against him. 

“Can-“ They both say suddenly, and then freeze. Isak literally feels Even freeze up behind him, but then he settles back against him, pushing his weight against Isak and Isak pushes his weight back against him. 

“You first.” Isak mumbles, like he’s talking to him on the phone or something. They’re only sitting back to back, he’s _literally_ resting his head against Even, and yet, he feels like they both need one last second of solitude, of staring at the brown tiled wall with their backs pressed together. 

“Can I look at you?” Even asks, and it comes out as a breathless whisper.

“Yeah,” Isak breathes quietly, and Even begins to shuffle, forcing Isak to as well. 

They turn, sitting awkwardly crisscrossed from one another, not nearly intertwined, but Isak is desperate to be. The song on Even’s phone shuffles to something Isak isn’t familiar with again, but it changes the atmosphere all of a sudden, something between them shifting, Even’s eyes becoming more curious once Isak finally gains the courage to look back up at him. 

“So, your solution to my problem is that…I need to what, pursue my wildest dreams? Find a new relationship? Have someone be there to carry all my problems on _top_ of their own?”

“I-“ Isak stops, licks his lips, squares his shoulders, because that’s not what he's trying to say in the _slightest_. “I’m just saying that you’re not alone, Even. Your thoughts, though they may be infinite, and though you may think you — you don’t have control over them in a way, and maybe you don’t, maybe _none_ of us do, really — but,” Isak sighs, too many thoughts running through his mind to properly convey what he wants to say. Even is patient, waiting, hanging on each word with sparkling eyes, his expression soft and curious. 

“But if you put yourself _here_, in this tub, reading _Kierkegaard_ of all fucking things, like _really_ Even?” Isak laughs at his own joke, and Even chuckles lightly before Isak continues. “You’re not going to let yourself live, and _experience_, and maybe find someone or—or some_thing_ to put your thoughts into. If you _make_ yourself alone, then that’s when you’re really alone, you know?” He keeps shifting his gaze between staring at his hands, fiddling nervously with his fingers, and back up at Even, whose eyes never waver from staring down at him. 

Even nods, solemn for a long moment, and Isak worries if he’s maybe said the wrong thing. But then Even clicks his tongue, and a small smile begins to break out across his features, and Isak can’t help but start to smile back. They continue to stare at one another, the air between them charged with intensity, and it's quiet. Even sucks in a sharp breath. 

“How old are you, Isak?” He asks, and Isak is baffled by the question. Here they are, discussing a philosopher’s intricate words about self-awareness, Even clearly taking them to heart, and Isak trying to dissect them, try to help Even in some way, and yet, Even is asking him about his _age_ of all things.

“I’m a first-year,” Isak responds, like Even should already know the answer. “I’m 16.” 

“You’re _16_ and you’ve got that much wisdom in you already? Damn, Isak. Damn.” Even says, sounding like he’s complimenting Isak, and he is. Isak can’t help it as his face flushes, the red seeping up from his neck and to the tips of his ears. 

“Is that a bad thing?” Isak shifts a little, unsure of what Even could mean, but Even quickly shakes his head. 

“Not at all. It’s admirable. Here I am, sitting alone with my thoughts and you come in and tell me I’m _wrong_—“

“I wasn’t trying to—“

“No, I know what you were trying to do.” Even says quickly, looking apologetic for cutting him off, but it was necessary on all accounts. Suddenly he’s shifting a little closer, leaning in towards Isak, and Isak holds his breath, tilting his chin up towards him. Even’s eyes are searching his, and Isak lets him see everything he wants to discover. “I…” Even starts, and then after a moment, he shifts back, looking at Isak painfully, and Isak wants to move closer, fill the gap that’s between them. “It’s just hard to believe that you're right, and I’m wrong, as usual.” He laughs lightly, but it doesn’t sound light, it sounds harsh and condescending. 

“You are right too, in many ways. We _are_ alone with our thoughts, but we don’t _have_ to be, understand?” Isak raises a brow to him, and Even deflates before him with a sigh. 

“Understood.” Even says with a curt nod, and then he holds the book in his hands, looking at it for a moment before he chucks it across the bathroom with a force unlike anything Isak’s ever seen, and Isak laughs as he watches it fly through the air and hit the wall, falling onto the floor unceremoniously with a loud clap. 

“You’ll lose your place, now.” Isak chuckles, and Even smiles back with a wicked grin, shaking his head. 

“That book is teaching me _nothing_, Isak, clearly. I didn’t want it touching me anymore.” Even jokes, causing Isak to go into another fit of laughter, the sound of their laughter combined is glorious as it echoes off the small chambered room, cutting themselves off from the outside world. This almost feels like a new dimension Isak's stepped into, and he couldn’t be happier. He never wants to leave this tub in Yousef from Bakka’s house, never. He’ll leave kicking and screaming if he has to. 

“So, Isak, first-year from Nissen, friend of Sana,” Even begins after a moment of quiet had settled between them. He clears his throat, looking sober for a moment, nervous. “Can I have your number?” 

Isak’s jaw almost drops, but he catches himself before it does, trying not to look so taken aback. Even’s smile is back, amused once again, patiently awaiting Isak’s response. Isak’s heart feels like it’s flatlined all of a sudden, but then it comes back, and he sucks in a sharp breath as it beats against his chest harshly. 

“My…number? You want _my_ number?”

“Who else is going to tell me I’m being dumb at…at 2 am?” Even asks, checking his phone for the time, and Isak stiffens. They’ve been sitting here for almost an hour now, and Isak doesn’t know where the time has gone. He’s glad he doesn’t have his phone on him, he likes the idea of being free from outside sources right now, especially Jonas and the onslaught of worrisome texts he’s probably got from him now, probably from Eva too if Jonas has talked to her now. Isak wants time to stop ticking, the world to stop spinning, he wants everything to freeze _right now_ if it meant he could stay here, staring at Even for the rest of eternity, and have Even staring back at him.

“Yeah, you can have my number.” Isak blushes, and Even hands him his phone. Isak is surprised his hands aren’t shaking as he takes the phone into his hands, creating himself a new contact and adding his number. The song changes again, and this time Isak can see what it is. Coldplay's _The Scientist_ echoing quietly in the small tub. 

“Snap a picture of yourself, too.” Even says, and Isak gawks at him. 

“Why?” He asks, unable to keep a nervous laugh from rising out of him. 

“I mean, only if you want to, but…I want you to?” He asks, and how could Isak ever deny a single thing this man wants. This beautiful man that Isak so desperately wants to scoop into his arms and tell him he’ll never be alone as long as Isak’s there to quell all his spiralling thoughts. 

Isak raises the phone, and Even smiles triumphantly, a winning smile. 

“Don’t look at me while I do it.” Isak says, chastising him, and Even rolls his eyes as he laughs, quickly putting his face in his hands and squeezing his eyes shut. Isak most definitely cannot do it with Even looking at him, it feels too intimate. He’s already being _seen_ too much as it is, but oddly enough, he doesn’t want it to end just yet, if ever. 

Isak’s hands are shaking now, but he raises the phone after checking that Even really isn't looking, and gives a tight-lipped smile at the camera. His cheeks are flushed, eyes rimmed red, and he tries not to hate his appearance too much at this moment. Once the sound of the shutter resonates, Isak adds the photo as his contact picture and looks up to find Even looking at him, peaking through his fingers slyly with a big, dumb smile on his face that makes his cheeks pull up, his eyes crinkling at the corners, sparkling and blue. He drops his hands, then raises them beside his head, like he’s been caught red-handed, a guilty smile on his face, but Isak knows that Even feels anything but. 

“You watched me do it!?” Isak huffs as he shoves the phone in Even’s chest, Even effectively doubling over in laughter. 

“You’re just too cute, Isak, I couldn't help myself.” 

Isak scoffs, but his _heart_, _oh_, his _heart_, it feels so light and so full, and as their hands brush as Even collects his phone from Isak, something electric sparks between them. Even gasps at the touch, the only inclination that he’s felt it too, soaring from the tips of their fingers and making Isak's eyes droop, his mouth water involuntarily. He looks at Isak, and Isak looks at Even, and for a moment, nothing exists outside of this tub, this space that has become theirs. 

Isak clears his throat, pulling his hand away from Even, and Even lets out a small sigh at the action, gazing heavily at Isak. 

“So, should I expect a text at 2 am tomorrow?” Isak asks, his voice hoarse, and he clears his throat again. His breath gets caught there as Even shifts towards him suddenly, closer than before, tilting his head to the side as his eyes drift over Isak’s face, unabashedly staring down at his lips, and Isak can’t help but stare back at Even’s. 

The song changes, and Isak recognizes it, _La Vie en Rose._ He lets out a small, stifled laugh, and Even’s eyes meet his again. 

“What’s with these _songs_, Even? How’d we go from Nas to Louis Armstrong?” Isak asks, and Even grins, amused. 

“I don’t know, how’d we go from two strangers sitting in a tub to me somehow getting your number?” Even asks, and _touché, Even, touché._ “My music taste ranges greatly, Isak. I have many a thing to teach you, young grasshopper.”

“I—“ Isak scoffs, “I’m not a young grasshopper, Even. I refuse to be.”

“Oh?” Even laughs, his grin still full of amusement, and to keep it down he bites on his lip, their eyes never leaving one another. Isak bites his own and doesn’t miss the way it makes Even’s eyes shift, his pupils blown wide.

“Yeah, Even.” Isak breathes out, and then whatever else he wants to say gets lost, whatever argument he wanted to start to prove to Even he wasn’t just some young, lost soul is completely gone to him now. But the way Even looks at him at this moment, despite what he’s said, makes him feel anything but. 

“It’s too bad you don’t have your phone on you right now, or else I’d text you.” Even shrugs, and leans back, away from Isak once again, and Isak is getting tired of this now. He just wants to fucking _kiss_ him, alright? Is that so hard?

“What would you text me?” Isak asks, and Even pouts as he thinks, and then gasps as a thought comes to mind. 

“Sit back to back again.” Even says casually, already beginning to shift around in the tub, like this is a _thing_ they do now, and Isak shakes his head. 

“Why?” Isak asks as he watches Even settle, back turned towards him now, and Even laughs. 

“Just do it, Isak. Sometimes you gotta just do things and not ask _why_ all the time.” He jokes, giving Isak a small, knowing smile over his shoulder.

So Isak does it, he turns his back, and they press their backs together once again. Isak sighs, head falling back against Even, and Even’s head falls back against his own. 

“Ask me again.” Even whispers, spoken so softly it’s barely audible, but Isak hears it nonetheless, his ears now tuned to Even’s voice and his voice only. The song ends, and it changes to something Isak recognizes again. _Unchained Melody _by The Righteous Brothers. Eskild went through a Patrick Swayze phase, and Isak joined him through it. 

“What would you text me, right now, if you could?” Isak whispers back, because the words feel like they must be spoken with care, with a cherished intent. 

“I’d tell you how I’m very happy you came tonight, and that we ended up in this tub together.”

“Is that all?” Isak asks, and he's about to question more but Even continues before he can. 

“No, of course not.” He chuckles, and Isak moves with him as he does, the movements making his head spin with something he’s never felt before, something like desire, burning in him to feel it again, to forever feel the way Even moves when he laughs with their backs are pressed together. “I’d tell you that…the moment you stepped through the door my heart stopped, and — and you looked so broken, all I wanted to do was hold you. But I knew that was irrational, so I offered you a smoke instead.”

“Even—“ Isak wants to say it all back, but Even starts talking yet again before he has a chance to. With their backs pressed flush together at this moment, it almost feels like they're melding into one. And maybe they are. 

“I’d tell you that despite _schooling_ me on _everything_ I thought I knew about my thoughts, and the way my mind works, that I suddenly feel like you know me better than anyone’s ever known me, better than I’ve ever known myself.” 

“I—“

“And I’d tell you that if I could… if we could just… stay in here…_forever_…then that’d be nice.” He says, and then lets out a breath. Isak lets a few moments pass before it seems like Even is done speaking, and before he can think about what to say, he instead turns around. 

Even whips his head back at Isak, looking terrified after his confessions, spoken to the wall, but now he’s faced with Isak once again before they have a chance to properly collect themselves, before they’ve both agreed on seeing each other again. Isak hopes he won’t mind. 

Even gapes at him, mouth opening and closing but no words come out. Isak gets on his knees and cups Even’s cheeks in his hands, and _yes_, he’s as soft as he looks. Isak stares at him for a few seconds before diving in and doing the one thing he really can’t hold back from doing any more. Not after Even just told him he'd stay here forever, too. 

His lips press against Even’s, his eyes fall shut, and everything goes quiet the moment Even's hands reach up to tug Isak closer. It’s just white noise, and the sound of their heartbeats, Isak’s own pounding in his ears. 

It’s a little awkward, only because their positions in the tub make it harder to reach out and touch, but they make do for the time being. 

Even’s mouth moves against his in a head-spinning synchronization that Isak’s never felt before, never _experienced_ before. He’s kissed before, he’s kissed _girls_, but he never once thought kissing a _boy_ would ever feel this good, this right. His lips feel so soft and plush, pressed against his with a soft fervour, a desire to go deeper, but they keep it gentle, even as Even’s hands squeeze down on Isak’s wrists and soft sounds escape them both, small bouts of desperation leaking through the softness, the tenderness of the kiss. 

Isak moves away after a few seconds pass, and Even’s eyes are still closed when Isak pulls away, only far enough that their noses brush. When Even finally does look at him, his pupils have blown so wide they nearly drown out the blue in them. 

His eyes are so wide, staring at Isak in awe, and Isak wants to kiss him again, and again, for as long as they can. 

A sudden pounding at the door causes them both to jump, their hands falling away from each other, and Isak falls back against the wall, sitting in the tub once again. 

“People need to use this washroom! Please go use a bedroom to fuck in!” A shrill voice he doesn’t recognize comes through, and Even huffs out an exasperated laugh, looking at the door in shock. 

“_Jesus_.” Even whispers, and Isak pulls his knees into his chest, looking past Even with a blank expression, staring at a spot at the wall instead. 

Isak just kissed a _boy_, and that boy kissed Isak _back_. And if Isak didn’t know any better, he could swear that what he felt in that kiss was pure _fireworks_. It was harmonic in a way he’s never experienced before, never thought he’d feel before._ Holy shit. Holy motherfucking fuck. _

Even swallows audibly, and his eyes drift from the door and back to Isak, his smile falling, and he quickly scoots closer to him, bringing a hand to his cheek and running his thumb across it briefly. 

“Hey.” He whispers, and Isak meets his eyes with a few shifted moves of his head, only after a few more internal struggles have passed, because Even’s looking at him with such awe and care that Isak is desperate to give back in any way he can. “Let’s get out of here, yeah?”

“To…to a bedroom?” Isak asks, his heart hammering, his voice coming out as a squeak.

“What? _No_.” He laughs at the thought, and Isak deflates, a relief flooding over him. Even shakes his head, a kind smile on his face as he whispers, “Let’s just go hang out somewhere.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> if you'd like to know more about this verse, come talk to me on tumblr! @peachyisak :)
> 
> kudos & comments always appreciated 
> 
> xo, kris


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